


On The Edge Of Darkness and In The Light

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson/Sally Donovan - Freeform, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Medical Illness, Molly Hooper/OC - Freeform, No Anderson bashing, No Sally Donovan bashing, Possible Mystrade, Sally Donovan Appreciation, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Teenlock, mystrade, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the breeze that flustered Sherlock's curls and made John shiver. It was the moon that highlighted Sherlock's cheekbones and shone through John's golden hair. It was the sadness of impending loss that made Sherlock's tears fall and John hold him closer. It was gravity that brought the burning tears into John's hair and it was their friendship that made Sherlock feel safe. It was John's calming heat that Sherlock could feel. It was Sherlock's pain that John could feel. And it was their love that made it okay.</p><p>               A light in the dark was no metaphor for these two. In the bitter night of London and a top the building where neither should be; within the dark and yet light of the moon, with the assistance of flashlights, and lost in the world that isn't ready, they find themselves; together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Edge Of Darkness and In The Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benedictcumberpantysnatcher](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=benedictcumberpantysnatcher).



> This is for a friend, in all truth to the word, which has been more than they should or could be. That means more than they should or could to me, and they will never, never know or understand how much they make me smile. So here is to you, benedictcumberpantysnatcher, my meager gift to you that is all I could ever hope to give to you. Which I would like to wish that puts a small smile on your face when there are tears dried to your face and rushes blood to your cheeks when you are already okay. I hope that this can make you happy like you can make me. (Now stop reading my chick flick sappiness that makes you stop wanting to be my friend and get to reading while I try to build up my cool points and raise your opinion of me:) (P.S. If you don't like this tell me and I will delete it then proceed to forget about it or if you actually end up liking it then tell me because I will add the chapters I have planned:) Please enjoy poor readers who came to read this horrendous fic and find my over dramatic note which increases the worseness:P

There was a tingle that inflated his chest, the dirt settling in his lungs as he drew another puff in. It made his tongue dry and steadied his fingers though his mind would not quiet. Watching the infamous black wisps spew into the sky, raising to the moon and blurring into the darkness. The moon was high as it had just risen and he knew he was early. Looking out over the buildings which dipped over into the empty space of the sky. He twirled the cheap flashlight around his left hand and flipped it impatiently. Putting out the cigarette which flared as it choked on the cool metal of the air conditioner vent. Swinging his pale legs over the edge and he looked down into the brick alley. Low and far away, but close enough to see his reflection in a rippling puddle. A beam of light from behind the ledge caught his eye and he languidly turned to face it.  
The halo of moonlight reflected in John's rusty blonde hair. It was all that he could make out over the bright ray of the flashlight obstructing his vision. It burned a blotch into his sight that remained even after it had been shut off. Blinking in attempt to rid of it a quiet chuckle huffed out of the newcomer's mouth. They didn't say anything but John silently joined him and crossed his legs atop the edge. Neither was scared of falling but the cold draft which flew up the side of the building chilled the warmth that John had carried with him in his jumper.  
A small smile tugged at their lips but it was with content. There was a tension in the midnight air between the two that was formed of the need for something to be said. But there was a fullness in their stomachs in the presence of one another. Something was tingling at their throats to be said but it was never spoken nor did it need to be. A kind of acceptance or fulfillment in their hearts. It was all hard to explain but it was like sunlight in many ways. Kind and harsh, honest and blunt, warm and refreshing, blinding and enabling; but being in it too long could hurt. So in some ways, they weren't like sunlight, they could be cold and ignorant, forgiving and secretive but they were never hurtful or cruel.  
Sitting on the edge of St. Bartholomew's Hospital staring out over the roofs of London and into the sides of precariously tall structures, in a silent companionship with their legs swinging in times over the ledge and into each other, they sat shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them spoke a word as Sherlock pushed off the concrete and stood, swaying slightly through a particularly chill gust, and looked up at the sky. Into the depths of the universe he didn't understand, past the stars which couldn't shine bright enough, and through a moon that glowed but didn't shine. And nothing was uttered as John rose then took Sherlock's cold hand with his then tried to see what he saw but couldn't do anything other than marvel at the vastness. Maybe there was a car honk that brought Sherlock's face down to stare at John's. Perhaps it was a door slam that caused John to look up at Sherlock. Know it was their heart's which drew their arms to encircle each other.  
It was the breeze that flustered Sherlock's curls and made John shiver. It was the moon that highlighted Sherlock's cheekbones and shone through John's golden hair. It was the sadness of impending loss that made Sherlock's tears fall and John hold him closer. It was gravity that brought the burning tears into John's hair and it was their friendship that made Sherlock feel safe. It was John's calming heat that Sherlock could feel. It was Sherlock's pain that John could feel. And it was their love that made it okay.


End file.
